


with my life.

by littlestormwitch



Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/M, I Made Myself Cry, I'm Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 15:37:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20230237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlestormwitch/pseuds/littlestormwitch
Summary: Nikolai Lantsov had always wanted to fall in love. He was a romantic, and liked to think of himself as the prince charming, ready to meet his soulmate, his beloved, his world; then he’d become king, and whatever little part of romanticism was left in him got buried, leaving space for strategic, plans, and an arranged marriage. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by some childish daydream, but what he hadn’t considered – or, better, who – was Zoya Nazyalensky.





	with my life.

Nikolai Lantsov had always wanted to fall in love. He was a romantic, and liked to think of himself as the prince charming, ready to meet his soulmate, his beloved, his world; then he’d become king, and whatever little part of romanticism was left in him got buried, leaving space for strategic, plans, and an arranged marriage. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by some childish daydream, but what he hadn’t considered – or, better, _who –_ was Zoya Nazyalensky.  
Pretty Zoya with hair as dark as the night sky and blue eyes shining like the stars in it, like the sapphires of his mother jewellery. Smart Zoya, who he remembered from when they were both children, her traits already hard like the ones of a woman.  
He’d always wondered what had happened to her to make her grow so fast; she was stronger than anyone he’d met, stronger even than a saint – _and he’d met a couple_ – but there wasn’t even a crack in her walls that could allow him to get in. She’d opened a door for him, though, one night in a realm long lost, a door to her memories, to her scars, and he’d watched and listened in amazement as she trusted him enough to give him a piece of her past. _He wanted more_, wanted to know everything about her past, her present, what she wanted for her future – _power_, he knew, _to never be afraid again_. But when he’d announced his wedding with the Shu princess, she’d cut him off again. _No, not again,_ he realized one morning when she didn’t even flinch at his usual jokes, and innocent flirts.

_“Zoya,” he’d _pleaded _her when she tried to escape the room they were alone into. “What happened? Why can’t you even look at me?” he was angry and terrified. He couldn’t lose her – not his General, his warrior. He couldn’t lose his _friend_, the one who’d tied him to bed every night for months, keeping the beast at bay and making it come out when she was in danger. He’d thought then it was the Darkling’s connection to her to make it rise, but when it was gone he _knew _it was all him. Because he couldn’t lose the person he _loved_.  
“Nothing, but I don’t want your wife-to-be to get any ideas, she already listened to too many rumours,” Zoya had told him, still in the door frame, her hands behind her back and her eyes fixed on a point behind Nikolai’s head, giving the illusion she was looking at him. Except she wasn’t.  
“She doesn’t want to marry me, and it’s just rumours, what harm can they do?” Nikolai hated how his voice was betraying him. Hated how he couldn’t force his body still, an invisible force pulling him towards her. Zoya’s face was a mask of indifference, but he knew better.  
“But her family wants her to marry you, and she will – unless she finds something that can convince them you are not worthy of such an arrangement,” she’d turned on her heels, ready to go, but before Nikolai could think better he’d seized her wrist in his hand and had pulled her towards him. Electricity filled the hair, raising the hair on his arms, but he didn’t let go, his eyes didn’t falter. He searched her gaze, desperately, and when he finally found it noticed how Zoya’s once bright, beautiful eyes seemed to be clouded. Darkened. _Fading_. They looked at each other in silence, __his eyes searching for anything that could give away a hint of what she was feeling – besides annoyance._  
_“Zoya, I –” he’d started to say, his voice reduced to a whisper, but a gush of wind pushed him away from her, his fingers slipping and immediately trying to hold on something else. Now her eyes were shining, and it took Nikolai a moment to realize it was because of tears – because she knew what he was about to say, and for some reason she didn’t want to listen._  
_ “I’ll see you later, Your Majesty,” she’d said, her calm voice replaced by a raspier one as she half bowed half stumbled out of the room, leaving Nikolai by himself, the words still stinging in his throat, prickling his tongue._

Now he watched as lightning left her skin, striking down attackers from every side. The battle had surprised them in the middle of a gathering, and everyone looked absolutely ridiculous in their suits and gowns fighting an army of believers – _the Starless Saint believers, while the Darkling __mocked them from the cell he was being held in –_ but not Zoya. Nikolai’s General looked majestic, with her once pulled up hair wild in the wind, her arms up and a thunderous force leaving her body to protect the kingdom, the people, _him_.  
“You can’t be out here,” had told him Tolya, trying to push him behind the walls, but the king had escaped his hold to join the woman in the fight and, with an annoyed growl, the guard had let him. “Protect the king!” he’d yelled, and Nikolai almost laughed at his restraint: protect the _idiotic, fool _king.  
“Go inside, Nikolai,” Zoya had said, her voice weirdly different from her normal own. She was glowing – like Alina when she’d embraced her power – but there was something different. Something more. Nikolai knew the voice merged with hers and yet couldn’t place it, not until he saw her eyes glittering silver and, at the corner of his eyes, the shadow of a dragon surrounding her.  
He should’ve remained focused. He should’ve shoved the shock away. He should’ve concentrated.  
But he couldn’t, and when he saw the flash of a blade aiming to his chest – _to the exact same spot where the Darkling’s disease had infected him_ – it was to late, and panic rose in him because _he didn’t want to die._  
And then Zoya’s body landed at his feet with a loud growl and a flash of lightning directed in front of them both, hitting a row of believers hard. Painfully. He was on his knees before he could realize and for a moment thought she was going to push him away, yell at him for being so reckless and thoughtless, order him to go inside, but all she did was bend over herself, her hands shooting towards her stomach as her lips pressed together. With horror, Nikolai realized her hands weren’t going for the stomach, but for the blade stuck in it as blood stained her fingers.  
“No,” he said, hurrying closer to her, his knees brushing her back, his hands finding her face and her hair, her smooth skin covered in sweat and dust, her eyes – now blue, now silver, now both – wide with terror. _She was afraid_. “No, no, Zoya please,” Nikolai could only say as two figures – Tolya and Tamar – rushed in their direction, saying again and again to protect the king and the general. Tamar’s eyes landed on Zoya and for a moment she hesitated, because in everyone’s mind Zoya was invincible, then placed herself in front of them, axes drawn, as Tolya tried to take the now impossibly small figure of the woman in his arms.  
“Don’t touch her!” Nikolai had screamed, _snarled_, feeling like the monster was about to jump out again, shielding her with his own body. Tolya looked startled.  
“We have to take her inside,” his voice was plain, emotionless, and Nikolai only wanted to scream more. _But he was right._ The king scooped his arms below Zoya’s body, taking her up with him in a single, rapid movement, then turned and started to walk as fast as she could, his general growling phrases about being able to walk on her feet, to let her down, but every now and then Nikolai felt her shift uncomfortably as the pain seemed to reach another part of her body, making her cry out and dug her nails into his coat. The blade – a dagger, of all things, small and sharp – was still in her body, and she seemed desperate to take it out but knew better.  
“Genya!” Nikolai yelled on the steps, where other wounded were taken care of. He stormed inside, Zoya starting to shiver in his arms, and panic kept rising in his chest. “Genya!” he called again, louder, desperate. The redhead was nowhere to be found, apparently, and terror did nothing but grow in Nikolai’s body. “Stay with me, general – _Genya!_” he ordered before screaming again, and the desperation of his tone made people turn and pale at the woman’s sight. They cleared the way for them and, an instant later, Genya appeared and froze at the picture. Her lips moved, the scars twitching on her face, as a _no_ escaped her mouth and then she stormed into the nearest room, throwing the doors open for the king to walk in.  
In another lifetime, the image of Nikolai Lantsov carrying Zoya Nazyalensky like that would’ve been heart-warming: everybody knew of the king’s affection towards his general, and Genya knew of Zoya’s love for her king. But to see her whole body shake in his arms, to see the blood staining her clothes and his clothes, her hands and his hands – Genya wanted to cry.  
“I’m sorry,” Nikolai was whispering now, quick steps against the marble floor as he reached the nearest couch. “I’m so sorry – Zoya, Zoya please,” he gently placed her on top of the cushions, remaining on his knees at her side. “Zoya, Zoya,” he kept calling, his voice broken, his eyes red. “Help her!” he growled in Genya’s direction, desperation filling every single letter. Genya stared, shaking her head.  
“That blow,” she whispered, terrified. _It should’ve killed her instantly. It was directed toward her heart, she can’t be alive._ “Nikolai I – I don’t think there’s something I can do,” her voice was barely audible, but the king refused to let it pass.  
“No, you’re gonna help her, all of you!” now he seemed maniac. His eyes lingered on the few people standing in the room with them, then landed on Zoya again, who was starting to shiver once more, her eyelids fluttering – open, now close, now open again. “Stay with me, Zoya, please stay with me,” he cried. _No, he sobbed,_ his hands brushing her hair away from her face, his face near to hers, tears running down both their faces – hers from pain, his from desperation.

“_Stay with me, Zoya, please stay with me.”  
Zoya could hear him, but she felt so tired, the whole world a blur covered in flames as her own body seemed to be on fire.  
“Fight back, Zoya,” Juris voice reached her, and she wanted to shake her head. “We are stronger than this – fight back,” he urged, and Zoya knew he was scared of dying again, because she was too.  
“I can’t,” she cried. How long had it been since she’d actually _cried_? “It hurts,” she added, and reached for her stomach, her chest, where the blade still was. _Pull it away_, she thought, but couldn’t bring herself to it.  
“_Zoya, Zoya, you can’t leave me,_” Nikolai’s voice was broken with sobs and tears, and Zoya wanted to reach him too. He was calling her name so sweetly it hurt more than any blade could ever. _“I need you, I still need you._”  
“Is this how you want us to go?” Juris asked, and Zoya felt herself shake her head. “You know it’s over?” the Saint questioned in a lower voice, and this time Zoya nodded – _of course she knew_. “Fight, Zoya,” his voice hit her like thunder._

And she gasped for air, opening her eyes, her hands reaching immediately for the blade.  
Nikolai’s hands were around her wrists in a moment, stopping her before she could hurt herself more, and his eyes filled with tears lingered over her face before he lowered his lips on hers, pressing a desperate kiss on it. They both tasted like blood and dirt, and Zoya cried at the suddenness of the movement. Nikolai drew back and looked at her. _How could she be still alive?_  
She was shivering from head to toe, her skin deathly pale, her heart racing painfully.  
Genya, behind them, looked as if she’d seen a ghost. Tolya started to mumble and then approached them, but Zoya shook her head quickly, every movement causing her pain.  
“I won’t resist longer,” she managed to say, one of her hands moving to wrap her bloodied fingers behind Nikolai’s neck, the other freeing and reaching for the blade. She drew a sharp breath in and pulled it away with all her strength, a growl escaping her lips. Nikolai’s face went colourless, and Genya gasped. Zoya’s eyes met her friend’s one, and a tight smile made its way on her lips as she nodded. “It’s okay,” her voice was steadier now, and her eyes went down on Nikolai’s head, his blond hair flattened on it, his face pressed in the crook of her neck. She then met Tolya’s eyes, and he seemed to understand without her saying a single thing. He nodded stiffly, then reached for the dagger she was holding up tiredly. “Careful – it’s poisoned,” her voice was low, like she didn’t want Nikolai to hear, but he did and tensed, her fingers still on his neck. _How could she still be alive?_  
“Let’s go – Genya, come – all of you, out!” Tolya ordered, gently taking the redhead’s harm and leading her outside the room before closing the doors: Zoya and Nikolai were alone.

“Listen to me,” she called gently, pulling his hair hard enough to make him look up. It pained her to speak, to breathe, but she persisted.  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Nikolai was repeating, his voice downed to a whisper, and Zoya wished to have enough strength to slap him. Instead, she bent her head and kissed him, gently. “I should’ve listened to them, I should’ve stayed inside, I’m – I’m sorry Zoya,” he mumbled on her mouth, and she took a sharp breath in as she pulled away.  
“Listen to me,” she repeated, moving her hand from the back of his head to his face, taking it within her fingers with more strength she thought she had. His eyes met hers, and saw the blue and silver melt together. _Juris is keeping her alive?_ He wondered, but couldn’t manage to ask. “It’s not your fault, are we clear? So you won’t spend the rest of your life blaming yourself for this,” she was hard even in that moment, but something in her voice was something more. _She’s still afraid_.  
“It was for me,” he replied simply, and the woman sighed, closing her eyes for a moment.  
“Of course it was for you, you’re the king, they’ll always come for you,” her voice softened, and she moved her hand to gently brush her fingers on his cheek. “I’m your general, it is my duty to protect you _with my life_, and I did, and it’s okay, no,” she stopped when he started to shake his head, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. “It _is_ okay, Nikolai, this is how things go,” her voice drifted off slightly, and she caught herself.  
“We saw so much, Zoya – we _lived_ so much,” he was desperate again, but a kind of tiredness had settled over his words, making him frown. “Why can’t you believe there’s a way to fix it? Why can’t you let me help you? Please,” he almost begged, and the general took a deep breath in, ignoring the pain in her ribs as she did so.  
“Because I’m so tired,” she whispered, half closing her eyes, half bringing her head in his direction. “And scared,” she admitted. “And I want to be with you like this because we still can,” her voice was barely audible as she kissed him again, and he kissed her back feverish, his hands moving without a cause as if he was searching something but didn’t know what he needed.  
“We could – _no_, we can be like this,” he murmured, pressing a kiss on her forehead now burning. “I’m the king, I can make it happen,” he sounded like a child playing now, but he didn’t care. And she smiled at him, her eyes bright again, _blue_ again.  
“Even kings have their limits,” she cooed, moving her hand from his face, resting it on his heart – _on his scars_. “And you’re a great king, Nikolai, and even a better man – you can move on,” she nodded, closing her eyes for a moment as panic rose in the man’s chest.  
“Don’t tell me to move on when I can still feel your heart, Zoya,” he replied harshly, making her smile again – which seemed to cause his anger to rise for a moment, burn and die in the span of a moment. “You can’t tell me this – you can’t leave me, I still need you,” he brought his forehead to rest against hers, hoping to see her eyes once more. “_I love you, Zoya_, stay with me,” his voice escaped in a sob, and the girls ignored how heavy her eyelids felt to watch his features. _One last time_, she told herself, and Juris too, who’d disappeared from her mind.  
_I know_, she wanted to reply. _I love you too_. But the world went dark as she closed her eyes again, and the image of Nikolai’s face was the last thing she could remember.


End file.
